I notice that flies circle my movement,
They rest on my hands, my arms, the extensions of my legs
They swarm around the cavities of my chest
Where my lungs lay blackened, and my sickened heart beats slackened
And the occasional fly lies on the flesh that
Surrounds my ladened heart
I wonder whether they realise that my soul
Has decayed, that my heart chips down each day
And breaks, festering beneath the weight of my sins
I wonder whether they sense that I am rotting within
That I am a corpse standing still
Awaiting judgment